Max Dunne: Hunted Page 2

  But things changed drastically after his father’s burial. His mother, Cecilia Dunne, stopped being the lively woman she was. When her husband died, something died with her. She had lived a very dull life instead. Max suspected that her cancer started the day she was told about her husband’s accident. Max himself missed his father terribly; his pop was his best friend, and when the man died, Max had felt so very lonely. He and his mother lived like strangers afterward, but they loved each other dearly, they were just incapable of showing it. They had only each other left in the world; and even though the affection for each other was there, the closeness was gone. Axel had been the thread that held the family together, but since his death things had fallen apart. And each person had blamed themselves for how things had turned out. His mother blamed herself for not showering her son enough love; Max, too, blamed himself for not showing enough affection towards his mother.

  “Hello Mother,” he called, “I’m here.”

  She was sleeping, but she opened her eyes immediately on hearing her son’s voice. Two large orbs stared at Max; they seemed like the eyes of a corpse.

  “Oh Maxwell!” she said, her voice came in a croaky whisper. She sounded not less than a frog with tuberculosis.

  “I’m here, Mother.”

  “Oh Maxwell! I have so much to tell you but so little time to do. Axel is already smiling at me with open arms. I can’t wait to join him. But he will be crossed with me if I don’t tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “The truth.”

  “What truth?” He suspected that his mother was beginning to go senile, foe all she was saying seemed like rambling.

  “The truth about you.”

  He frowned in confusion. “What in heaven are you talking about, Mother?”

  “We’re not your real parents.”

  “What!”

  “We adopted you.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “You were separated from your family when you were very young. A shipwreck on the Mediterranean Sea brought you to us. Your family was traveling in this ship when you were only two years old. I can remember the name of the ship now. It’s Lady Nagin. The news about the water accident made front-page on various national newspapers. The police tried as much as possible to locate your family but couldn’t. Eventually, you were held up for adoption. We were the lucky family to have you. We still are. While we were signing all the necessary documents, the police informed us about the tragedy that befell you. We were warned that your real family might eventually show up and we might have to release you. We made no objection to that; we would be glad to unite a son with his family, we said. But secretly, I prayed than none of your family members would step forward. Perhaps such evil thought is the reason I have cancer. I don’t want to go to my grave with such a heavy weight on my soul, Maxwell.”

  “Have you found them?”

  She nodded.

  “Where?”

  “I found your father 25 years ago. Well, I think he found me, or he found you, whichever was the case. But I kept you from him; I refused to let him see you.”

  “Why?”

  “The first reason is because I was selfish; I couldn’t be the thought of giving you up to another person, not after bringing you up for twelve years. You were only fourteen years old at the time. The second reason was because I didn’t like the kind of person your father was. He was a very evil man, a vile person. I couldn’t imagine giving you up to him. He wouldn’t have brought you up well; he would have made you into an evil person like he was.”

  “And my Mom?”

  “He told me she died in the shipwreck. I think her death made him the kind of person he was. Your father lost his sanity the day he lost her to that accident that nearly claimed your life too. Although he was your biological father and he had the right to take you from me, but I couldn’t just release you to him. You see, that was the same period I lost your father.” She stared at him. Her eyes said it all.

  He backed away from her like someone goosed by an electric shock. “Oh no! Please tell me it’s not true! Please!”

  “It’s true,” she said breathlessly, “Your biological father was the driver of the truck.”

  “You mean – you mean he killed Dad?”

  She nodded, tears streamed down her face. “Like I said, your father was a vile man. After discovering that he was behind the death of my husband, I took you and disappeared. We had to go far away from him, to a place where he would not find us.”

  Max remembered. They had left Providence shortly after his Dad’s burial. He hadn’t liked it because he had lost his friends and he had to enroll in another school. Somehow, he had disliked his Mum for that. She was inconsiderate and selfish, he had decided. She had not thought about his own feelings before taking that decision. Now that Max knew the true reason why she did what she had done, he was ashamed of himself. And he blamed himself for the cancer. If he had been closer to her, she might not have had the disease. It was his uncaring attitude that had reduced his mother to this scarecrow lying supine on her deathbed.

  Then it occurred to Max that there was something more to his mother’s confession. He was not only saying this because she wanted to die with a clear conscience. If he knew his mother as much as he thought he did, then there was definitely another angle to the triangle. It was obvious to him now.

  “Has he contacted you recently?” he asked her.

  Instead of answering the question, she stared at Max’s face for a long moment; the tears in her eyes continued flowing down her shrunken face. Max had thought she had not heard him and when he was about to ask the question again, she said what sent him reeling in shock and confusion.

  “He’s dead,” said she.

  “Then who contacted you? The police?”

  “His son did,” she responded.

  “What!” This was getting crazy; everything was incredulous. He felt as if he was in a kind of weird dream that no logic made any sense.

  “Yes,” she spoke out in relief, “You have a brother. You were separated not only from your parents during the shipwreck but also from your brother. He survived the accident too. While we adopted you as our son, your brother was brought up by your father.”

  “This is unbelievable!” Max was pacing around. “How did he locate you?”

  “Your father gave him all the information he needed about us before he died. He had spent the last ten years searching for us, for you.”

  “Who is the person? What’s his name?”

  “I’ll allow him to introduce himself.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  The door was slowly opened and a familiar face stepped into the ward. He was smiling deviously. “Hello Max.”

  Max could not believe his eyes. By jove, he was staring face-to-face at Craig – Craig Jocovich, the same person bearing the name Marcus Linderman.

  Max turned to face his mother.

  “This is my brother?”

  But the woman did not respond – she was already dead.

  Oakland Drive

  His mother’s dead eyes stared at the ceiling, like she had been seeing something floating in the air before she passed on. Perhaps she was seeing an angel, or most probably her husband calling unto her to join him. As he stared at his mother, he felt an ache in his heart. He suddenly felt lonely, and he momentarily forgot about the man standing at the entrance. Max did not bother calling the doctors for he knew there was nothing anyone could do about this situation; the last time he checked, doctors had not been able to bring stone-dead people back to life. Of course, there were machines that could revive hearts that had stopped beating, but not in this case. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could bring his mother back to life.

  For five minutes, he continued staring at his mother. The eyes still stared toward the ceiling and her mouth was slightly open, as if she was about to say something when life departed from her. He used two of his fingers to shut her eyes, then he reached towar
d the sheet covering the rest of her body and pulled it up to cover her face too.

  “She was a good woman,” he suddenly heard behind him.

  He nearly jumped out of his skin on realizing that he was not alone. He turned swiftly around and beheld the villain. Then he remembered – his brother. His mother had wanted him to meet this criminal before she passed on. But he had met the bastard in the past; this man was a psychopath who delighted in killing his wives. There was no way he was going to accept this madman as his brother. They might be bonded by blood but he would never have anything to do with him. As a matter of fact, someone like Craig was not fit to live. Every breath he took was a danger to any potential wife out there; and Max would be damned if he allowed him to slip out of his hand again.

  The next reaction Max gave was reach for his gun in his side, but it was not there. It had been a habit; reflexively reaching for his left side to draw his gun at every sign of danger, or threat to his safety. But his gun was at home; he had not taken it alone when he visited the bar. Now this was the time he needed his gun most; and he would give anything to have a handcuff right now. This was a wanted man before him; and Max was particularly pissed off at the smirk the criminal carried on the man’s face. He wanted to reach over and kick the criminal’s teeth down his throat, but he did not think that a very wise thing to do; he had just woken up after three days for getting in a brawl at a bar. He did not want to be put to sleep once again; this person before him might be more experienced than him at physical combat. He wondered how he was going to overpower this one. He was not only looking a lot stronger but also a very smart criminal. He had eluded the police in the past, and he was sure that Max was not good enough to singlehandedly capture him.

  Craig took a few more steps into the room. Max backed away from him; his action was not borne out of fear but of protection. There was no visible weapon with the man but Max was not ready to take any chance. He might be having a gun under his shirt or a sharp knife might be concealed somewhere under his skin. Max had to be cautious around him. The man’s eyes were deadly and Max himself was sure that he was going to be killed if Craig decided that he was a big threat to him. How Max wished he had got a phone now, he only had to dial 911, he might not even have to say anything, he only had to keep the operator on the line. There was no phone and so no help was forthcoming.

  “What the hell do you want?” Max demanded in a loud voice.

  “I only came to see my brother,” answered Craig, “You’re my only family. I had to find you. Thankfully, our father left me the name of your foster parents; and for ten years I had been searching for you. You are not an easy person to find, Max Dunne.”

  “Probably because I didn’t want to be found by a psychopath like you.”

  Craig laughed. It was a genuine laugh; he found Max’s reply hilarious, and Max frowned in confusion. He didn’t understand why the madman was laughing for he didn’t see anything hilarious in his last statement. And the fact that Craig was laughing at a situation that wasn’t funny convinced Max that the man was truly a lunatic. Max was wary around him. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he was close to him; he had seen a lot of mad people display their madness for him to make a narrow guess.

  “We cannot avoid each other forever, Max,” said Craig, “You are my brother; there’s nothing you, or anyone else, can do about it. We are the last bloodline of our small family, Max.”

  “You’re a criminal, you bastard!” seethed Max, “I have nothing in common with you. You deserve to be behind bars, and I’m going to make sure of it. I will dedicate everything I have to ensuring your incarceration. I will put you down for good, Craig – or whatever name you bear.”

  Craig stared at Max, the former’s eyes were mocking the latter. Craig seemed to consider Max’s threats quite ludicrous. Max felt insulted, he knew what the stare meant; Craig saw himself as intellectually superior. He did not see Max as challenging at all. He was the cat, Max was the mouse; it was inconceivable for a mouse to threaten a cat – almost a sign of disrespect.

  “My name,” said Craig, “My real name, is Luke Hunter. And Pops told me your name isn’t Max, it’s just a name given to you by your new family. You’re a Hunter, bro.”

  “Why don’t you shove that name where the sun doesn’t shine?” Somehow, Max did not believe any word that came out the criminal’s mouth. Just as always, he could be lying about what he claimed to be his real name.

  Craig gave that creepy smile again. He shrugged and said, “I came to see my brother again. It’s been nice chatting with you. I will be getting in touch.” He looked around as if he was making sure he was not forgetting anything. Then he slowly walked out of the ward, shutting the door quietly behind him.

  Max stood in the middle of the ward like someone in a trance. He wanted to run after the criminal but he felt no movement. Running after him would not make sense; he was still weak and very much incapable of overpowering the strong man. Besides, if he knew Craig as much as he did, the criminal would have disappeared as soon as he shut the door behind him. There was no way Max would be able to locate him in that big hospital.

  ***

  His mother’s funeral service was attended by only his few friends and his former colleagues and associates. Only about fifty people were in attendance. As his mother’s casket was being lowered into the grave, Max thought he saw Craig in dark glasses standing faraway under a sycamore. It had been two weeks since Craig had disappeared from the hospital, and if he could show his face now, it meant that he had been keeping a close watch on Max; and the latter did not appreciate being stalked. He considered Craig’s presence in this cemetery an abomination. Craig was desecrating his mother’s funeral with his vile presence. But before Max could react the figure under the tree had disappeared. Throughout the rest of the funeral, Max kept looking around, searching for the face of the villain, but Craig never showed himself again. If he was still hanging around, he made sure he was not seen by Max. He was probably playing a kind of mental game with the private investigator. Max wondered why he had come here in the first place. He had left mysteriously two weeks ago with the departing words that Max would be hearing from him, but there had never been anything about him since then until he showed himself today.

  By 2pm, Mrs. Dunne had been laid to rest and all the attendants had departed. They shook Max’s hands as they found their ways to their individual homes. Tens of flowers decorated his mother’s grave. Mrs. Dunne was genuinely loved by the few people who knew her, and they had shown their love and respect for her by watching her being laid into the grave.

  Max did not leave until all the well-wishers had departed. About a hundred meters away, other mourners were burying their dead too. These ones are about twice the number of Mrs. Dunne’s acquaintances. They all wore the familiar funereal black. Max felt that he would not feel left out even if he decided to join them; but he turned around and walked towards his waiting car. He knew what he would do; he would not return home straight. Instead, he would visit the next bar and get himself some drinks, the same bar where he had been beaten to stupor about three weeks ago. It was his favorite bar, and he would not stop drinking there because a couple of tough guys had ganged up on him and put him in a hospital bed; no, he wasn’t a coward. And since he had been discharged from the hospital, he had gone there three times. The first time he went there after his recovery, he had received some strange news. The guys who had beaten him up that day had suddenly disappeared; nobody knew their whereabouts, it was as if they never existed at all.

  Max had found it weird. He would have thought they had left the city and gone somewhere else, but those men were not people who would just decide one morning and just take off; they had nowhere else to go but the bar. They liked the bar even more than Max; they basically lived there. And when they disappeared a lot of eyebrows were raised. No one could search for them because they had no lead to go on with; a lot of them had initially suspected Max of knowing something about their dis
appearance, but it was hard to suspect someone convalescing in a hospital ward of committing that deed. If you want to accuse someone in Honk Kong of killing another person in Washington DC, then you should be able to explain how the killer was able to shoot an arrow over mountains and across oceans to kill his target. And so when Max came to the bar, that was the first news his drink buddies had shared with him. And because he was a private investigator, they had expected him to investigate the disappearance and find where they were. But Max was not interested in that; the guys who beat him up were not his most favorite people.

  He switched on the ignition and drove out of the cemetery. He had barely driven for ten minutes when he began to hear some strange thumping sounds in his trunk. At first he had thought he had bumped over something, but the thudding sound got more definite. He pulled the car over at the side of a quiet road, opened the dashboard and reached for his gun. He carefully stepped out of the car and walked slowly to the back. The sound was no doubt coming from the trunk. He held the pistol firmly in one hand as he approached the trunk. He waited for the thud to sound again, then he quickly flipped up the lid of the trunk.

  He was met with a shocker. There was a little girl lying there in the trunk. She had been gagged and blindfolded. Her hands and legs were tied with strong ropes; she was tied so tightly that the rope was beginning to cut through her fragile fair skin. Max nearly broke down in tears. Which sick person would do this to a little girl? he wondered. The child was not more than four or five years old. The child wore a flowery dress and her red hair was done in a ponytail. Max quickly untied the blindfold over the girl’s eyes. Her eyes were swollen not only from crying but also from the tightness of the black cloth that had been over them for a long time. She squinted at the sudden glare from the sun. Max felt so sorry for her. He quickly released the gag too and untied the ropes that bounded her limbs. He would kill anyone who did this to her, he swore. As he lifted the girl out of the trunk, he wondered why she had been placed in his car in the first place. What was the intention of her abductors? Were they trying to set him up? Could it be Craig? Craig was the only person he could suspect. But he was not sure. Craig was notorious for killing wives; nothing about him suggested that he delighted in abducting helpless little kids. But then again, he had noticed Craig’s presence at the cemetery. While they were all at the funeral, Craig might have been busy placing the little child in Max’s trunk. It was inconceivable, yes, but very plausible.